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Crying on Christmas E̶v̶e̶

(Nothing to see here.)

By Ángel SierraPublished about a year ago 1 min read
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Profile of a woman in the shadows, her face dimly lit, glittery tears surround her eye.

I like to hide my things.

In an apartment, it's easy.

No one here likes to sing.

Everyone's usually busy.

Hiding things...

From significant others, or others.

It's all quite funny.

Except for the quarrels of brothers.

Maybe it doesn't matter

That I die from laughter...

That echo through these walls

To mark a death last fall by.

I said my goodbyes

Jumping on a redeye.

Trying not to show my

Own pair of red eyes.

•••

And when I landed,

Kind of like some Hallmark special town.

But I'd been—

I'd already come down,

So there was a fallout.

It was so hot out.

I couldn't breathe,

Couldn't believe what was behind me...

What would precede.

•••

Foreshadow.

Foresee...

Don't get to see no ending.

And

I swear,

It likes to keep us spinning.

It follows.

It smiles.

A shadow.

Your own.

Pastel seashell of crystals and flowers on a blue table.

I like to hide my things...

Like weaving a soul through a riddle.

There's always room to wiggle

If you can't ride the dream.

Ride the dream.

Waves come and go.

I hope you can stay.

I hope you know...

He said,

Don't go cryin' on Christmas Eve.

heartbreaksurreal poetrysocial commentaryslam poetrysad poetryperformance poetryart
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About the Creator

Ángel Sierra

Rhymes, riddles, and occasionally, she giggles.

Every-writer, it's all in me... DO LOOK DOWN!

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